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"I'm 54. I'm not young, but I'm not old yet either. I'm just… forgotten. Once, people used to call me by my name. Now it's just "buddy," "bum," "here again." Back then, I carried a briefcase; now I wear a torn jacket. There were meetings in offices — now I only meet the cold. I taught my son how to ride a bicycle. Now I'm learning to stand on my own feet again after another night under the bridge. Yes, I made mistakes. But doesn't everyone want a third? Sometimes I feel like a tree felled, bark cracked... And for a moment, I will be a person again. If only for a moment. Thank you for that moment." PAY PAL [email protected]

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